Birthday Girl

Riiing. Riiing. Riiing.

The receiver rattled in its cradle. The house was completely still. Plush cushions propped in the seats, piano coated in dust, empty fruit basket.

Riiing. Riiing. Riiing.

Loud clacking echoed from the opposite end of the house. A young girl, dressed in a lime green dress that just passed her knees, ran to the phone, nearly slipping on the slick vinyl flooring in her socks. She fumbled the phone in her hands and put it to her ear, taking a moment to push her red hair out of the way.

She inhaled to catch her breath and spoke. “Yes? Hello?”

A woman’s voice answered, speaking quickly and efficiently. “Hey, honey.”

“Oh, Mom? Hey! A--”

She was interrupted with the sound of two voices, her mother’s and father’s, yelling happy birthday through the phone. A moment later she heard her mother sigh into the receiver. “Donna, Honey, I’m sorry, we can’t-- me and your father can’t make your birthday. I’m real sorry. We’ll throw a party for you when we get back, get you a real big cake with the chocolate frosting you like so much, okay?”

Donna grit her teeth. “Yeah, okay Mom.”

“We left you some money under the clock in the office, on top of the piano. Go get yourself something nice…” Her mother’s voice pulled away for a bit and came back a moment later. “Look, I gotta go. We love you honey! Have a good birthday!”

“Thanks, bye Mom.” Halfway through the sentence the phone clicked. Donna dropped the receiver into the cradle and looked behind her into the office. She pushed the french doors open, quickly catching them before they slammed against the wall. She skipped across the room to the piano, lifting up the small Zenith table clock, revealing a crisp twenty dollar bill. Her eyes lit up and she snatched it up, holding it in her thin fingers and inspecting every detail of it. She knew exactly where to go with it.

She skipped along the sidewalk. The morning was cool and the sun shone brightly, and clouds sat in the distance, far off in the sky. She stopped herself in front of the small building, pulling the front door open and hearing the bell chime away as she stepped in. Someone from the back, behind a red curtain, called out.

“Welcome! I’ll be right out with you!” The voice was confident but shook and rattled with age.

“It’s just me, Mr. Archibald!” Donna called out, already looking around the store for something to get. Most days it was just stare and wish, but today was different. Today she could get whatever she wanted… almost.

“Ahhh, Donna!” Mr. Archibald, head covered in thin white hairs, shuffled out from the back. He had his apron on, hung loosely around his body. He wore thin rimmed round glasses that sat low on his nose. “If I remember correctly, and there isn’t much of that at my age…” He turns around slowly to look at his calendar, hanging on the wall. He squinted and laughed. “Happy birthday, dear! You’re… You’re…” He slowly turned back around to face the girl, smiling ear to ear.

“Nine, Mr. Archibald.” She rolled on her heels.

“Ah, nine! Yes… goodness me, you’re getting older… and taller! You’ll be calling me shorty soon, I suspect.” He nods and feels his arm around behind the counter. “Since it is your birthday, miss… let’s see here…”

Donna watched as Mr. Archibald pulled a lollipop from somewhere behind the counter and gave it to her. “Thanks!” She pulled the wrapper off and stuffed it into her mouth, letting it sit there with the stick hanging out, wiggling around as she tasted it.

Mr. Archibald nodded and chuckled, coughing into his fist. Donna looked about the small antique store, stepping through decorations hanging from the ceiling, racks two, maybe even three times as big as her. It was cluttered, filled to the brim with jars, bottles, toys, clothing, knick-knacks, anything, and almost all of it was older than her; some of it even older than Mr. Archibald. She thumbed through the items, turning items around in her hand, inspecting them, and putting them back. She wanted something big-ticket. Something she couldn’t get without the twenty sitting in her pocket. She ran her fingers along the wall, looking up and down along the racks. Tarnished butter knives, old Victrola records, an ornate picture frame with a faded photograph sitting in it of some man in a suit. Nothing that interested her. But as she went further along, and the items got older, she eventually reached the black curtain that hid the oldest items in Mr. Archibald’s shop. She pushed it past and slowly stepped through, and immediately a musty, cold air hit her.

Donna looked behind her, far from the front desk now, smelling the stale book smell, the kind you get stepping into a library, and looked about. She didn’t usually come here, as everything was far out of her price range and only taunted her. Something about this room was cold. Still, like each of these items were frozen in time. Some kind of medical instrument sat on the shelf, a tag on it reading “Colonial Era Plaque Scraper - 2$!!”

Donna chucked and looked at a grimy wooden pipe, then at a piece of jewelry, locked in a display box. Nothing particular had jumped out at her, until her eyes stopped at a wooden puppet, sitting on the top shelf at the farthest end of this small back room. The paint on it was almost perfect, as if it had only been made yesterday. The wood still looked solid, without almost any rotting, and the clothing it was dressed in looked immaculate. It was large, probably half Donna’s size. It was dressed formally, in a suit with a coat tail that it sat on, a red and white pinstripe vest beneath it, and a bowtie wrapped snugly around its neck. A red ribbon was pulled around its waist. She bit her lip and quickly rushed to the front.

“Mr. Archibald! I need you to get something from the top of the shelf… in the back.”

Mr. Archibald turned around to face Donna, eyebrows pulled up, accentuating the wrinkles in his forehead. “My, you never go back there, Donna. What could you possibly want?” He shuffled past the counter and rubbed his chin.

“The doll. The wooden doll!” She hopped excitedly.

“Oh..?” He looked down at her, his eyebrows suddenly pinching together. “And why would you want that?”

“I think he’s cute.”

“Ah…” He thinks for a moment and nods, shuffling along slowly to the back.

Donna walks with him, taking tiny steps, watching her feet, trying to hold her excitement. 

“Come on, hurry it up, you old codger!”

“If you weren’t right, I might be offended by that name.” He laughed good-heartedly and walked into the back, looking up at the doll. He stood on his toes and pulled him off the shelf. He stared at the doll’s eyes. “You… You sure this is the one you want, honey?”

“Yep.” She nodded affirmatively.

He stared into the dolls eyes for a few more seconds, seemingly a contest, before shrugging. “All right…”

The two of them walked to the front. Mr. Archibald set the doll down on the counter. “Alright, that’s an antique doll, from an unknown year… but it’s older than you, me, and the Fosters’ house down the street combined, honey, so take care of it. It’s thirty dollars.”

Donna’s smile turned upside down. She exhaled through her teeth and kicked the floor. She sucked the lollipop for a moment in thought and leaned against the counter. “You know, Mr. Archibald, it is my birthday…”

With his hands on his hips, he cocked his head with an eyebrow raised. He put one hand up to stop her. “Before you go any further, I’ll lower the price. On me. You’ve got moxie, I’ll give you that. Anyway, I’ll be glad to get that thing out of here, it creeps me out.”

Donna grinned widely and pumped her fist in the air. “Thank you so much Mr. Archibald!” She pulls the twenty, now crumpled, out of her pocket and practically threw it on the counter. Without saying another word, she lifted the puppet up in her arms and rushed out the door.

Mr. Archibald chuckled, watching her fly out of there. He shook his head and sighed with a smile.

Ben kicked the pebble along the sidewalk, looking at his feet. He was humming I’m a Believer. He was deep in thought, thinking about the homework he had to do this weekend and the storm clouds that were rolling in, when he was interrupted with the sound of clacking coming from far away. He looked up and around, seeing Donna running along at what seemed like a thousand miles an hour, holding something in her arms. He waved.

“Oh, hey Donnie! Happy birthd--” She lifted her arm up as she ran past, smacking his waving hand into a high-five. Before he could say anything, she was gone, halfway down the street. He looked back and then at his hand.

 “Earlier today, reports came in that what is assumed to be around four hundred students took the administration building at Cheyney State College in Pennsylva--”

“Boring.”

“Beam us up, Sc--”

“Boring.”

“--And you better gird your loins, buster. You got a fight on your--”

“Boring.” Donna looked to her side, where she had her new toy’s head propped up on a pillow to look at the TV. “What do you think?” She looked at it for a few moments before clicking through the channels again.

“It’s--”

“--definitely not something--”

“--I ever wanted to--”

“--see, Joan. Certainly--”

“--a waste of all our damn time!”

Donna furrowed her brow and squinted at the TV. Bonanza was playing. She clicked it off and grabbed the doll, yawning as she stepped into her room. Rain was pattering against the windows. Thunder boomed in the distance. She closed the door behind her and rubbed an eye, lifting the doll up above her head, setting it on a shelf with her other dolls, letting its feet hang over the edge. It slumped over against her Raggedy Ann doll. She pulled her sheets back and stuck her feet under the covers, pulling them over herself. She stared out the window, watching it pour outside. She grunted and lifted herself up, bowing her back and tucked herself in. She clicked the lamp off. Gripping the pillow tightly, she curled up and squeezed her eyes shut.

His legs ached. His back hurt. His eyes stung, and his feet were cramped. He shoved the cushion aside and stood up, blinking several times. He looked about, watching lighting strike off in the distance out the window. He turned around, gripped the wood tightly and let himself down gently, landing on the soft floor. He stepped along quietly, making sure each step was as soft as possible. His neck felt loose. How long had it been since he was given good treatment.

He takes another step forward and slips. A marble shoots from under his foot and hits the wall with a loud thunk.

Donna jolted awake. She sat up and rubbed her eyes, crust falling from them. She yawned, stretching her arms out. She looked outside. It was still raining, but now the moonlight was peering into her room, illuminating everything in a very dim, blue glow. She squinted laid back down, closing her eyes.

She felt a little sore in her back and huffed, rolling over to face the door. That’s when she saw it-- a small silhouette standing perfectly still. A very small silhouette. A silhouette the size of a doll.

Donna stared. She could feel a cold wave wash over her.

“Ah. My apologizes. I did not mean to… uh… wake you.” An antiquated, but well spoken voice emerged from the darkness.

Donna wanted to say something, but no words seemed to come from her mouth. She slowly sat up and began to get up.

“We can’t have you picking me up again.” The puppet croaked, stepping closer to the door.

Donna couldn’t see anything but the doll’s outline. At first she thought it was her eyes, but she could swear on her father’s life she began to see the doll change.

A terrible, sickening creeeaaak emanated from the doll. A sharp snap! and a groan, like the sounds of wood breaking and rubbing against eachother. She watched the doll’s head crack loudly and snap to the side, as if its neck had just been broken. Its legs elongated unnaturally, the arms reaching down, fingers becoming thin and pointed atop a bony hand like a set of articulating needles. The coat tail grew with the doll, growing in size proportionately tailored as it grew. The sounds felt like nails on a chalkboard, making Donna wince.

As the doll grew to nearly touch the ceiling, thin and lanky in the silhouette, the legs and arms seemed to pop! back into place. The doll reached up with its thin hands and snapped its head upright again. It folded its hands together in front of it. Donna reached a hand over to the lamp.

“Stop.”

Her hand froze an inch from the chain.

The doll’s head spun around with the sound of a bike chain, making a complete 180 degrees and staring her right in the face with glowing yellow and red eyes, perfect yellow teeth pulled into a wicked grin.

Donna yanked the chain to her lamp and jumped up. It was her doll, standing almost twice her size, with an expression somehow more malevolent than it already had. She stares at him up and down.

“Well, Donnie, because you saved me from that awfully dusty and might I say claustrophobic antique shop, I suppose I should extend the courtesy of introducing myself. I am Cavortus. I’m a puppet, not a doll. Important distinction.” He stares down at her.

She stares up, eyebrows pushed together in a concerning look. She looks around the room for a few moments, completely silent. Then she reels back and slams her foot into the puppet’s knee.

He pulls his leg back, yelling out and grabbing it, hissing through his teeth. “Gah-! What was that for?!” He rubs his leg, wincing from the kick.

“You said you were a puppet. I wanted to know if puppets felt pain. Sorry.” She shrugged.

He stared at her with a dumbfounded expression. “Are you kidding me?” He finished rubbing his leg and regained his composure, pushing his black hair out of the way. “You’re not… scared? Surprised?”

She shrugs. “I mean, sure I’m surprised, but whatever.”

“Whatever? Do puppets come alive all the time around you? Is this daily routine?”

She shakes her head and runs her hair behind her ears. “Well, no, but now that you are alive that means we can do fun stuff.”

“Fun st- What? I- What? I didn’t agree to this.” Cavortus folded his arms and tapped a finger against his arm.

“Well, I did just buy you. So… you don’t get to agree. You’re my puppet.” She smiles ear to ear.

He narrows his eyes, opening his mouth to say something, but could feel the corners of his mouth lift slightly. He studied her, and she studied him.

He raised his chin and looked down at the smug girl. “...Okay. But get me a screwdriver first.”